


Solo and Together

by Silent_So_Long



Category: Rammstein
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 18:18:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3864919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul, Richard and a hotel room</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solo and Together

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Merry Month Of Masturbation 2015

Paul yawned his way through the hotel room door, closing it softly behind him with his hip. He rested his head upon the door, shoulder-blades connecting with the hard wood, as, outside, he heard a noisy couple passing, shouts and giggles seeming to reverberate through the very wooden barrier he was leaning against, aggravating an already painful headache. The gig had gone well that night, yet the combination of bright stage lights and fire both lent him the beginnings of what could prove to be a horrific migraine before the gig even was through. 

Despite being asked, Paul had foregone celebratory drinks with Richard and Schneider, preferring to relieve himself of his headache by going to bed early. He’d thought he’d seen concern in Richard’s eyes at that, brief hesitation inherent as though the other man had thought about offering to accompany him; Paul had smiled bravely at him, before he’d told him that he did not want to bother him, and assured him that he’d see him in the morning. or later if Richard preferred. Although his varied assurances did little to dissuade some of the concern from Richard’s eyes and the softness of his sudden vague barely there pout, Richard had at least capitulated and allowed him to leave. Paul was in no doubt that Richard would swing by later in the evening; even though Richard would be undoubtedly a little on the tipsy side, he’d still think to do that, to ensure that Paul was alright. He also might even stay with him for the night; although Paul suspected that there would be nothing more than kisses and cuddles shared between them, dependent on how drunk Richard actually was, Paul knew that he’d be satisfied with even that. He wasn’t up for more than a few snuggles that night anyway. 

Paul yawned again, as his eyes drooped closed; bright rills of pain blossomed behind his eyes, suddenly. Even the dim hotel lighting was proving too much for him that night. He shuffled into the small en-suite bathroom, barely managed to brush his teeth with any true accuracy before he shuffled out in to the main room again. Already, his headache was receding, yet still he found it a chore to change into his pyjamas for the night, to click out the light and to settle beneath the covers in the soothing arms of blessed darkness. He yawned again, as sleep folded over him with soft wings and he knew no more. 

Paul initially wasn’t sure what had awoken him; all he knew was that he’d been jarred from a dream of Richard to full wakefulness, with barely any stops in between or warning. He stared up at where the ceiling was, too dark to see even in the vague light of the blue neon hotel sign that barely filtered through the crack in the heavy drapes at the window. The room felt a little chill against his skin where it was exposed; hastily Paul pulled the covers back over his arms, and the foot that poked from beneath one corner of them. 

He wondered quite what had woken him up, whether it had been noisy people passing in the corridor outside or whether it had been Richard knocking softly at the door, calling his name through the wooden barrier. He listened, and found that surprisingly, all was quiet in the corridor outside; Paul had lost count of the times in the past where he’d been awoken at unspeakable hours by screams, by shouts, by loud laughter from inconsiderate souls that just didn’t seem to grasp that other people might actually be sleeping at 3am in hotels. 

It was quiet enough without the sounds of noisy revellers, that Paul would have heard Richard moving about in the corridor and would definitely have heard the other man knock again and call his name, if he’d been there; instead, he heard nothing at all. Still, Paul was tempted to rise, to pad across the chilly floor, to check the corridor for himself just in case. It was only when he was sitting on the edge of the bed, soles of his feet barely touching the chill of the floor that he realized that his headache from earlier had been almost slept away since he'd first retired to bed; only the vaguest reminder of how bad it had been tugged at the backs of his eyes, which he knew would fade further given enough time. For that he was glad; he groped around with his feet first and then with one wildly and blindly groping hand, hoping for the familiar soft feel of his slippers that he always laid by the bed whenever he was in hotels the world over. It was a comfort away from home, a habit he’d picked up from Richard, who always liked odd little comforts that others readily laughed at, yet Paul himself always found cute. 

Eventually he found them, half knocking one of them beneath the cover of the bed and almost losing it entirely beneath a welter of loud curses that were disproportionately angry for the situation. He got to his feet, managed to locate the lamp switch and switched it on. His next task was to find his night gown, thick and soft and fluffy, a gift from Richard which always effectively reminded Paul of the other man. Paul suspected that that had been the intent all along. 

He shuffled across the room, knowing that he’d spent enough time flailing about for his comforts, that if Richard had indeed been on the other side of the door, he would have made at least some noise by now. He peered through the peep hole in the door, but could see nothing in the hallway outside. As if worried that Richard might be in a dead doze somewhere between the doorway and the floor, Paul eased the door open and checked the corridor again, yet it was empty and eerily silent. Suddenly Paul felt as though he was the only inhabitant in the hotel, so eerily silent was it. He shivered and hastily closed the door, turning the handle so that it locked securely; he oddly wanted to feel safe from whatever was out there, if anything was. 

He shuddered his way across the room again, before he took off his night gown in preparation for slipping beneath the bed-covers once more. He settled beneath them, sheets already a little chill in even the short time he’d been away from them; the bed soon warmed up beneath his body again. He closed his eyes, in an attempt to get back to sleep once more, yet found that sleep was hard to come by, too awake now to return to the dream he’d been having before he‘d awoken.

Paul tried to recapture the vagaries of his dream, more for something to do, to while away the time until sleep came to claim him once more. His thoughts turned to Richard himself, of the way that the other man had looked that night. Whilst Richard always undoubtedly looked good, Paul had to admit that his partner had looked particularly tempting that night, hair freshly washed, fluffy, and soft looking; Paul had longed to touch it, to run his fingers through Richard’s hair, to wrap his fingers through rough clumps of it and tug whilst Richard did unspeakable things to him in the privacy of their hotel room. He thought of the way that Richard's clothes that night had been purposefully chosen, it seemed, to accentuate the swell of a muscle here, and the curve of a butt cheek there. 

Paul groaned in frustration then, hoping against everything that he had that Richard would swing by, that he would be just sober enough that things would progress a lot further than merely kisses and cuddles that night. Paul suddenly wanted the weight of the other man’s body against his own, the feel of Richard's hands against his body, the warmth of his mouth sliding over his cock as Richard slowly pleasured him. Paul groaned again, a high needy whine suddenly invading that deep and resonant sound and he slid his hand down the front of his pyjama bottoms, fingers soon finding and wrapping around his cock, already half-hard. 

He began to stroke, fingers moving in confident strokes against heated flesh; it didn’t take him long before he was fully hard and panting beneath the covers, eyes staring blindly into the darkness of his room as he pleasured himself. He kept thoughts of Richard in his mind’s eye, hand pumping faster now as arousal sent rockets of pleasure sparking and spiraling through his abdomen. He barely recognised the groans as even belonging to him, so deep and rapid and breathily needy were they; Richard's name suddenly ripped from out of his mouth, harsh and rough and panted out for no one but himself to hear. He felt his orgasm building, building, building until it felt an impossibility that it ever was going to come, but come he did, spilling out into the palm of his hand with a great cry of release, followed swiftly by Richard's name. 

He fell back against soiled sheets, worn, breathing heavily but immensely sated, smile curving the corners of his mouth as he rode the remnants of his climax, release still thrumming through his body with a music of its own, that made chords out of his muscles and songs out of his thoughts. He was still riding his climax when a knock came at the door, and Richard’s voice floated through the wooden barrier; although Paul could not hear the other man’s words because of the trapping wood of the door, the distance and the still fuzzy-headed feeling he had from his climax, he guessed that the other man was announcing himself, and was also calling for him, undoubtedly. 

He replied as best he could, voice still breathy and shaky and somewhat hoarse from his satiation, before he swung out of the bed, momentarily gathering his thoughts before he stood. He paused on the way to the door to wash the evidence of his activities from his hand. Still, he did not have time to do the same to the sheets, because Richard was knocking more insistently against the door and Paul could hear the impatience in his voice now, as well as catch some of his words. 

“What the hell are you doing in there, Paul? Taking a shit, or what?” Richard asked, and there was enough of a slur to his voice that Paul guessed that the other man was the just about the wrong side of merry. 

He sighed, and managed to winnow his way to the door just seconds before he guessed that Richard was about to knock again, louder that time, and more insistently.

“Okay, Reesh, hold your twice-damned horses,” Paul said, as he opened the door into Richard’s scowling face. 

“You took your time,” Richard said, even as he stepped through the doorway, once Paul had moved far enough away from it to allow him decent passage. “Did I come at a bad time?”

“Not really,” Paul said, with a shrug. “I was still in bed.” 

“Yeah? Headache any better?” Richard asked, as he dumped himself down upon the bed in question, still fully clothed.

Paul wondered if perhaps he’d inadvertently dumped himself into the messy patch and wondered how he was supposed to explain the stain away to the other man. 

“Yes, much better, thank you,” Paul replied, even as he realized that the pain in his head and behind his eyes had fully receded, washed away in the rush of recent pleasure. 

“Yeah? That’s good,” Richard said, before he yawned. “Did you manage to get any sleep?”

“Yes, thanks,” Paul said, with a smile that was more aimed at his recent activities than Richard himself. 

Richard yawned loudly again, before his eyes closed and he sighed.

“Have a nice night celebrating?” Paul asked, politely, wondering even as he did so whether he’d missed anything exciting or funny. 

“It was okay. It’s always better when you’re there, though,” Richard said, as he cracked one eye open to stare lopsidedly at Paul, almost accusingly. 

Paul had to smile at that, but didn’t know quite what to say. He merely shrugged, and changed the subject.

“D’you wanna stay the night?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Richard said, before he fell silent again.

Paul nodded but didn’t say anything either; instead, he watched as Richard sat up, with a groan, one hand raised to lay upon his forehead. 

“Where are you going?” Paul asked.

“To get my pyjamas, of course,” Richard asked, with a snort and a wince at that odd, loud sound. “I can’t borrow yours. They’re too small.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Paul said, after a sudden mock scowl.

There was a brief pause before both men suddenly laughed; happiness and merriment filling the gaps between them. Paul nodded as Richard stood and walked past him, pausing only once to drop a whiskey flavoured kiss against Paul’s mouth. Paul smiled into the kiss, and licked his lips when Richard was gone, savouring the flavour of the alcohol, and the taste of Richard beneath it all. 

He barely had enough time to wipe away the worst of the drying mess from the sheets, before Richard returned, now dressed in his pyjamas, looking sleepy and bed-tousled already, despite the fact that he’d yet to get into bed. Paul had to smile as he came out of the bathroom and saw him sitting on the edge of the bed already, eyes halfway to closed.

“Go to sleep, if you want to,” Paul told him. “Don't stay up on my account.”

“Want to snuggle,” Richard said, with an added pout.

Paul sighed and tried to hide his smile, but failed; that smile broke through all the same and he crossed the room space remaining between them, before he wrapped his arms around Richard’s warm body, hands caressing the other man’s broad back. Even though Richard’s arms snaked around his waist, Paul could feel the protest before it came.

“A proper one, Paul,” Richard said, breath warm against his chest, voice vibrating through Paul’s body. 

Paul sighed, before he patted Richard’s side awkwardly with one hand. 

“Get in, then, and we can,” he said, even as affection warmed his voice and took the edge off his words.

Richard smiled at him, before he snuggled beneath the covers; Paul followed him soon after and Richard closed the distance between them to snuggle against Paul gratefully. Paul kissed Richard, mouth and lips warm against his own, tongue wet inside his mouth when Richard licked his way inside. When the kiss ended, Richard stared at him in the dimness, with an amused, yet knowing, curl to his lips.

“What were you doing when I came in earlier?” he asked as though he knew something of Paul’s earlier exploits.

“Sleeping,” Paul said, defensively. “Why? I told you that, already.” 

“There’s a wet patch here,” Richard said. “Are you sure you were only sleeping?”

“Ah,” Paul said, embarrassed. 

“I hope you were thinking of me,” Richard said, as his grin broadened considerably.

“Actually, I was thinking of Ollie,” Paul said, with as innocent an expression as he could currently manage

“Fuck you, Landers, you were not,” Richard said, with a laugh. “You were totally thinking of me.” 

“Okay, I was,” Paul replied, with a sudden laugh. “But there’s nothing wrong with Ollie, just so you know.” 

“Yeah, but you’re not dating Ollie, you’re dating me,” Richard pointed out, with a snort. 

“God help me,” Paul snorted back. 

Richard shoved him playfully, before pulling him roughly into a hug when it seemed as though Paul would tip over the edge of the bed. Paul smiled into the kiss that Richard gave him, gentle despite the teasing from earlier. 

“Get to sleep, Paulchen,” Richard murmured against his mouth.

“You too,” Paul replied as he curled up comfortably into Richard’s warmth. 

:::

The following morning dawned in a bright wash of colour and sunlight, shafts of which filtered through the gap in the curtains, replacing the blue of the neon sign that had glowed throughout the night into Paul’s room. Paul stirred, consciousness seeping in gradually, as he smiled against the still warmth of Richard’s chest. Richard still was asleep, Paul could tell; his breath was too even and deep for the other man to be awake. Richard’s chest moved slowly and rhythmically against Paul’s cheek, rising and falling with the sound of his heartbeat held within. Paul found both the sound and the movements comforting; he curled up still further into the other man’s warmth, drawing further comfort from him.

It was as if that movement, minimal though it was, stirred Richard into wakefulness; the other man began to move, breath changing pitch and tone, so that it became lighter, more wakeful and alive. Paul felt Richard’s hand flex against his back, fingers rubbing gently at Paul beneath the cover of his pyjamas. Richard groaned slightly, and Paul could tell by the timbre of the noise that Richard was suffering a little from a hangover. He moved slightly, craned his head far enough away so that he could stare into Richard’s face at close-range; as expected the other man looked bleary eyed and pain-ridden, although still smiling when he looked upon Paul. 

“Hallo, liebchen,” Paul murmured, quietly into the ticking silence of a hot hotel room. 

Richard mumbled back a nonsensical reply, proving that he was as verbose as ever in the early watches of the morning. Paul didn’t mind, however, too used to his partner’s early morning habits now to take offense. He sighed and rested his forehead against Richard’s chest; his hair, by default, tickled against Richard’s throat, provoking a laugh to spill from the other man’s lips. That, at least, sounded genuine, and pain-free, which made Paul smile and stare back up into Richard's face again.

“D’you need some aspirin?” he asked.

“Please,” Richard said, with a nod and a wince as his head was jarred by even that slight movement. 

“Wait here a minute,” Paul told him, before he wriggled out of bed, Richard’s hands a trailing, grasping weight against his body as though the other man really didn’t want to let go of him, despite his need for pain relief.

Paul felt his heart tug a little in his chest at that; even though Richard might not say that he loved Paul aloud very often, it was there to see in the small gestures, in the way that Richard would often gaze upon Paul, with tenderness in his eyes, in the way that they touched, kissed, hugged and made love. Paul only hoped that his own love for the other man was as obvious as Richard’s. 

He made swift his return, having ran a glass of cold water into a beaker he’d found in the bathroom, and rummaged a couple of tablets from his bag; he waited until Richard had taken them before he’d settled beneath the covers again, Richard's arms immediately sliding around him with their familiar heavy weight. Paul sighed contentedly against the other man, and smiled at him mere seconds before Richard leant in to press a gentle kiss against his mouth. Paul closed his eyes, and felt his body react to Richard’s in the same way that it always did; every movement was languid and lazy, hands caressing lightly against the familiar lines of their bodies as they continued to kiss, lips lingering against lips as though fearful to part. 

In time, Richard's hand dipped down to Paul’s hip, and applied gentle pressure there; Paul allowed the other man to steer him onto his back before Richard’s leg partially trapped him in place as the other man rolled atop him. Paul’s hands travelled down Richard’s broad back, rested against Richard’s butt, fingers caressing him gently. Richard groaned into Paul's open mouth, tongue a sliding caress against Paul’s, as he began to slowly buffet Paul’s hips with his own. Paul could feel the hard line of Richard’s cock rubbing against his thigh and he adjusted the angle slightly, so that his own erection could rub alongside Richard’s; Richard moaned loudly at that, motion picking up as Paul began to move against him, pushing down heavily against Richard’s ass to gain more friction. 

Richard groaned, as he laid his head against Paul’s shoulder; Paul could feel the other man’s heavy breathing even through the cover of his t shirt, hot and heavy and blasting against him in rapid blasts. He felt his climax nearing, breathing coming tight and fast and he shouted Richard’s name on release, body arching up to curve against Richard’s own. Richard held him through it, hips still moving against Paul’s before he, too, came, moans buried in the curve where Paul’s neck met his shoulder. They ended up nestled together, uncomfortable in soiled underwear yet still too shaky and spent from shared orgasms to move just yet. In time, they made their way to the bathroom where they shared the shower, hands dipping and roaming over bared, wet bodies; Richard sucked bruises into Paul’s neck, mouth hot and wet against Paul’s skin. Paul smiled when Richard drew away, before he leant in, to return the favour, to claim Richard with mouth and with tongue, leaving bruises to blossom in his lover’s skin. He wanted everyone to know just who was his, inasmuch as he was proud to show that he in turn was claimed and belonged to someone. 

In time, they left the shower behind, to dry themselves and to dress; Richard had to dress in the pyjamas he’d had on the night before as he’d forgotten to bring a fresh set of clothing with him; embarrassed, he slid out of the room, to return some time later with worn jeans and a t shirt that always felt soft beneath Paul’s hands. Paul already had dressed by that time, and they took the stairs down to the hotel’s restaurant, wanting to spend as much time with each other alone as they could, fingers curled together as they exchanged quiet words spoken in hushed tones; oddly, the stairwell begged the lowered voices, even though there was no one else there to hear them or to intrude. To speak louder would have produced weird echoes, and didn’t seem right somehow to either man. 

They still were talking by the time that they’d reached the restaurant; the rest of the band already were there, yet only Till and Schneider actually still were eating. It looked as though both Ollie and Flake had finished their breakfasts already, yet only Flake looked marginally bored; Richard and Paul joined them amidst a welter of rude and lewd comments, mostly coming from Till’s direction. They joined the conversation idly, whilst they waited for their breakfast to arrive, voices soon dropping out of the general mayhem once food was placed before them and they turned their attentions to the more important task of eating.


End file.
